The Five Senses
by AerrowLover
Summary: 'Sense: any of the physical processes by which stimuli are received, transduced, and conducted as impulses to be interpreted to the brain.' Arthur muses on his relationship with Eames. A drabble for each sense. Arthur/Eames.


A/N: So there I was, strolling around on tumblr when suddenly an idea strikes me (Inception!). So, I set down and scribbled and lo and behold, we have ourselves five little drabbles. Obviously, me being me, this was all based on the pairing of Arthur/Eames. And here concludes the lesson. Class dismissed.

Warning: Um, I don't think there really is one for this. Obviously, SLASH. But apart from that, I gots nothin'. *shrug* I'm just surprised that this isn't at all angsty.

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own anything Inception related, and that includes Messrs Hardy and Gordan-Levitt.

* * *

**The Five Senses  
**_Sense: any of the physical processes by which stimuli are received, transduced, and conducted as impulses to be interpreted to the brain._

**

* * *

**

Hearing:

_[Hearing or audition is the sense of sound perception. Hearing is all about vibration.]_

Eames' English accent is something that Arthur finds totally irresistible.

Sometimes it can be hoarse and harsh, and Arthur will hear that side whenever they are fighting, and Eames' accent will serve to emphasis his anger, to fill every word with his rage. It is particularly noticeable if Eames happens to be intoxicated.

Or – and here a faint blush will grace the younger man's features – he will hear the ragged, harsh words whenever they are fighting in quite a _different _way. Then, his accent never fails to make him shiver. He could swear that he can feel vibrations at his fingertips.

Sometimes, it sounds soothing and oddly lyrical, and Arthur will hear _that _side whenever Eames mumbles an apology, or mutters incoherent words of affection.

Either way, Arthur thinks with a smile, he never fails to hear the older man.

You always heard Eames before you saw him.

**Sight:**

_[Sight or vision is the ability of the eye(s) to focus and detect images of visible light on photoreceptors in the retina of each eye that generates electrical nerve impulses for varying colors, hues, and brightness.]_

The very first time he saw the Forger, the Englishman was actually an Asian woman. She was stunning - large, dark eyes and flawless, clear skin. Arthur remembers watching as she twirled a lock of her silky hair around her finger, all the time smiling at him to reveal perfect white teeth.

He had watched as suddenly the façade dropped to reveal a grinning man. Arthur had woken up feeling… perplexed, because he had felt more attracted to the mocking, sarcastic and cocky man than the beautiful woman.

The Forger was a master at visual deception, able to project any front and mimic the appearance of anyone whilst in the dream state. After that first meeting, he had taken to relentlessly teasing Arthur, posing as various people time and after time.

Now, Arthur cannot help but be impressed at the ability of the Englishman, but he refuses to show it.

But he willingly admits that he much prefers Eames to simply be _Eames_. With his unruly and non-matching clothes, light brown hair – which is soft and Arthur sometimes twirls _his_ fingers through it - and those damn perfect lips.

His eyes, a sparkling green, are always full of mischief and vitality. They are, Arthur concludes happily, far more stunning that the haunting depths of the Asian woman's.

**Taste:**

_[Taste or gustation is one of the two main "chemical" senses. There are at least four types of tastes that "buds" (receptors) on the tongue detect.]_

Arthur will never forget their first kiss.

It had been two weeks after they had successfully completed inception on Fischer Junior, and Arthur had been surprised to open his door late one night to discover Eames standing there.

The next thing Arthur knew, he was being pressed –with a surprising gentleness he would never have expected from the older man – against the wall, with those damn green eyes almost glowing at him. They looked full of purpose, Arthur remembers.

Needless to say, Eames being Eames, he got what he came for. He really was stubborn as a mule.

Eames' lips really were as soft as Arthur had imagined. The Forger tasted of cigarettes and alcohol, it was true, but there was something else. Something deliciously intoxicating. Sweet like vanilla, but as tangy as lemon.

Arthur now knows that what he tasted then was simply… Eames. And it was more potent than any drug, and more addictive than any drink.

It still is.

**Smell**

_[Smell or olfaction is the other "chemical" sense. Unlike taste, there are hundreds of olfactory receptors, each binding to a particular molecular feature. Odor molecules possess a variety of features and thus excite specific receptors more or less strongly.]_

He had once been shot, Arthur remembers with a frown. He is a bit hazy on the details, but he can faintly recall the pain he had felt, the blood trickling down his chest, and the desperate pleas of a certain Englishman to stay awake for him.

Everything else is consumed with darkness from that point onwards. Yet he does remember waking up to discover he had been carefully bandaged and tucked up in a bed. Eames was perched on a chair beside said bed, and when he saw Arthur's eyes open and focused on him, he sighed and visibly relaxed.

He had then leant over and gently wrapped his arms around the younger man, and it seemed – to Arthur, at least – that he was secretly vowing never to let him go.

Arthur had nestled gingerly into the embrace, and inhaled the now-familiar scent of cigarettes and vanilla and something so gloriously _Eames._ He faintly remembers mumbling something about Eames smelling good, and the older man laughing. But he had been telling –albeit groggily – the truth.

For Eames smelt exactly like home.

And at that point, he felt safe and secure.

And now, whenever he wakes up in the night, something he does on the odd occasion, he will bury his head against the chest of the older man. And then he'll drift back to sleep, comforted by the smell of vanilla and cologne.

**Touch**

_[Touch, also called tactition or mechanoreception,__ is a perception resulting from activation of neural receptors, generally in the skin, including hair follicles, but also in the tongue, throat and mucosa.]_

Arthur is not one to openly display affection.

Yet Eames certainly is.

Sometimes Arthur will catch him just gazing at him, almost as if he cannot believe Arthur is there. But mostly he reverts to simply placing a hand upon the Point Man, or carelessly flings an arm around Arthur's shoulders. It's almost as if he does not want Arthur to go.

Every time Eames brushes his lips against Arthur's skin, it tingles like it is on fire.

Sometimes, Eames' touch is electrifying. Sometimes, it leaves Arthur dazed.

Mostly, however, it just leaves him feeling loved.

A hand upon a hand, a head against a shoulder, an arm twined around his neck… With every touch Arthur receives - even the slightest ones – he feels utterly at home, and totally secure.

This is why now, as late as it may be, he inches closer to the still figure of the Englishman, and presses his head against his chest. Sleeping he may be, but Eames rolls over onto his side, and subconsciously wraps an arm over Arthur, drawing him closer. He sighs in his sleep, and he sounds content.

Arthur finds himself smiling. Eames has never failed him.

So he snuggles close into the older man, basking contently in the warmth Eames' body provides.

He does not want Eames to ever let him go.


End file.
